


Packaging

by INMH



Category: Dead Rising
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Drama, Gen, Medication, Strong Language, world building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-24
Updated: 2010-12-24
Packaged: 2019-08-10 00:51:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16460315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH





	Packaging

Chuck's always been grimly amused by the paper ads for Zombrex.

_Keep living your life with Zombrex._

And behind that, a beautiful blue sky with a few puffy white clouds drifting by. He's waiting for the day when they step it up and put a few birds fluttering by as well, maybe a little sun off to the side, or right in the middle, with one of those big, goofy smiley faces on them that children tend to draw.

He glances sideways at Katey. She's consumed in her videogame. She knows he's here, getting the medication ready, but is used to the process enough that it no longer breaks her concentration from whatever she happens to be doing at the time.

If this particular brand of Zombrex was being sold specifically with a child recipient in mind, he wouldn't be so sardonic over it. If you're giving medication to a child, it sometimes helps them (Though he imagines it isn't for long) to forget whatever the medication is for. Some sort of psychological tactic: If there's a pretty picture on the poster that sells the product, then whatever condition/disease/disorder you're taking the meds for can't really be _that_ bad.

No, it's not with Katey in mind that he notes and grimaces at the picture; it's the hundreds of thousands of adults that are also taking Zombrex.

To anyone over the age of twelve, the picture is something of an insult.

Being bitten by a zombie isn't like being bitten by a friggin' cat and needing a shot to prevent rabies, or like stepping on a rusty nail and needing an update on your tetanus booster. Being bitten by a zombie means, unless you're a stupid jackass who happened to stand too close to a cage while sticking your hand out, that you've been chased down, screaming, and then had to feel that ultimate moment of heart-stopping terror when you realized that the thing had caught you and was about to rip you limb from limb.

Rabies and tetanus wouldn't turn you into a flesh-eating lunatic that would probably turn around and eat your most beloved family members without a second thought, and wouldn't make people look at you like a ticking time-bomb with only a few seconds left on the clock and nobody certain which wire to cut. Rabies and tetanus didn't turn you into a social outcast.

You got bit by a rabid cat? I'm so sorry, that must have sucked.

You stepped on a rusty nail? Ouch. Guess you know better than to walk across a wooden floor without shoes on now.

You got bit by a zombie? Get the fuck away from me, I don't want to catch it.

The pretty little picture of a clear blue sky and puffy white clouds were visual bullshit, the frosting on a tasty looking cake that some crazy fucker filled with razorblades. Being bitten by a zombie and therefore having the potential to turn into one yourself made you a complete outcast in society if people knew, kind of like the panic over the AIDS virus. Can I get it from sharing glassware with someone? Can I get it from a toilet seat? Do I have to burn everything they touch if they come into my house?

No, asshole, you get it from a _zombie bite._ Not a _person_ who is _not_ a zombie and simply has the _potential_ to _become_ one.

 _God_.

But even as Chuck complains in his head, he really isn't certain what the point is. What are they _supposed_ to use: A picture of a zombie clamping its teeth down on someone's arm? Or maybe a photo-shopped picture of a person: Half human, who's smiling, and half zombie, who's either frowning or snarling. Or maybe, for the kids, a cartoon zombie giving a thumbs-up?

A picture that gives a very clear and realistic view of what exactly it means to be an almost-zombie American? Or a pretty one that completely glosses over the condition to a point where it's almost insulting?

Chuck's watch beeps, and Katey looks up with a small smile and pauses her game. He manages a convincing smile back at her.

"Time for the meds?" She asks. He nods and opens the box.

"Time for the meds."

In this time and place, while his daughter is still young and still doesn't quite know the future that's in store for her, he'll take a glossed-over lie for now.

-End


End file.
